30 Years after Reincarnation, it turns out to be a Romance Fantasy Novel

Chapter 174

"It seemed completely ordinary at first glance.

A young boy with brown hair, who appeared to have barely reached the cusp of puberty, was smiling brightly. If he had been born in the world of Ihan’s previous life, that face alone would have made him an idol or an actor with widespread popularity.
But the two men had no time to carefully scrutinize the boy’s face.

Though his presence didn’t exude anything extraordinary like that of a Grand Mage, the two knights knew. They knew that the boy wasn’t leaking any energy because he had ‘completely mastered’ control over his aura.

And Ihan, though not by choice, had encountered only two individuals in his life who had achieved such mastery over their own energy.

One was the elderly man who played the role of a butler, and the other was a laid-back, roguish man who spent his days idly in the knights’ order.
Both of them appeared utterly ordinary at a glance, but Ihan knew better.

He knew just how monstrous those two old men were.

In martial arts terms, they had reached the level known as Banbak Guijin (Returning to Simplicity) or Nohwa Suncheong (Flame Refined to Purity).
Humans who had completely concealed their aura and lived like mystical creatures.
No, not “like” mystical creatures—they were humans who had truly become such beings.

And now, that boy was no different.
The absence of any detectable energy made him all the more terrifying, leaving no room for even the thought of resistance.

A transcendent.
A being that surpassed humanity—a rarity among rarities, perhaps one in millions or even billions.
Someone who had broken past all limits and merely retained the form of a human.

Fight against him?
That was a notion that didn’t even bear consideration.

Thus, Ihan and Raq…

Fwoosh!

…turned without hesitation and ran at full speed.

The knights, whose top speed exceeded 200 kilometers per hour, disappeared from their spot in an instant.

As they ran, their speed only increased, and before long, the Magic Tower became a mere dot in the distance.
The fact that the tower had grown so small, so quickly, was proof of just how fast and how desperately they had been running.

“—Oh, come on, that won’t do.”

[Smack!]

“…”
“…”

…The two knights, who had fled over several dozen kilometers, suddenly found themselves standing back in the very spot where the Magic Tower was located.

As if their desperate escape had never happened in the first place.

“…Spatial movement?”
“Spatial severance, maybe.”

Instead of panicking, the knights quickly analyzed what had happened to them and steadied their breathing.

Then—

“How far did we manage to go?”
“Roughly nine miles.”
“Damn your miles!”
“…Why are you getting mad at me?”

Despite the minor spat, they roughly calculated the distance they had fled before being dragged back. Then, they turned their eyes to the boy—no, the ‘ancient monster’ of 400 years, who had summoned them back to the same spot.

“How far would we need to run to escape the range of that spatial magic?”
“Hm, are you really asking me?”
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t answer.”
“…Haha!”

Turr de Seigan suddenly let out a cheerful laugh.

“No! I’ll tell you! As long as you’re within a radius of 100 kilometers, my spatial magic can reach you anywhere. So, there’s no way you can escape—unless, of course, you’re moving at the speed of light.”
“…I see.”

Ihan nodded, as though acknowledging there wasn’t a shred of falsehood in the boy’s words.

Though Ihan usually harbored an intense disdain for mages and refused to trust anything they said, this time, he believed it.

Because this was no ordinary mage—it was a transcendent.

Having dealt with several transcendents in his time, Ihan understood their psychology and state of mind well enough to know that they rarely lied.

Why could he be so certain?

It was simple.

‘Because they have no need to lie. Why would beings who can do whatever they wish bother with deceit?’

These were beings who possessed not just authority or wealth, but overwhelming power.
That power alone was their authority, their currency, and their proof of being transcendents.

Why would someone capable of bending the world to their will stoop to uttering falsehoods?

This time was no exception.

A man capable of anything spoke again.

“Hey, let’s have a little chat, shall we? I’m really curious about you two!”

“……”

“Come on, you’re fine with that, right?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a one-sided declaration, leaving no room for choice.

The overwhelming audacity of it was nothing short of infuriating…"

*****

[“Wait, Tower Master! We must punish them immediately! Talking to them? What nonsense is this!”]
[“Have you finally lost your mind, Tower Master?!”]
[“This cannot be allowed!”]
[“Grrrgh!”]

The Grand Mages voiced their complaints, their outrage spilling over.

Of the five Grand Mages of the Magic Tower, one was already dead, another clutched their chest in pain from a grievous wound, and yet another, who had lost an arm, seethed with rage.

But was that all?

[“Look at our fallen comrades! Look at the state of the Magic Tower!”]

Countless mages had perished. All of this was because those intruders had destroyed the Tower and attacked them. Of course, many mages were still alive, and rebuilding the Tower was entirely possible.

As long as the Tower Master lived.

However, damage was damage.

Those responsible needed to be judged and punished. That was the proper course of action for the leader of the Tower to set an example.

…Surely, that would have been the reasonable thing to do.

“—Are you giving me orders right now?”

[………]

“You’ve grown bold, haven’t you? Daring to show dissatisfaction to me, haha.”

[“…F-forgive me.”]

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s possible to feel that way.”

[…]

“Haha.”

Despite the boy’s youthful and mischievous laughter, the mages felt no amusement.

Instead, their faces turned pale, and they lowered their heads deeply.

They had forgotten, after not seeing him for a while, who he truly was…

The Tower Master.

“…If you’re just going to apologize, why did you show dissatisfaction in the first place? Annoying—”

Rumble!

The Tower Master was the Magic Tower’s greatest lunatic, entirely self-serving in his actions.

[“Grrrgh!”]
[“T-Tower Master! We spoke out of line! P-please spare us!”]
[“W-we apologize, we’re so sorry….”]
[“Aaaaah!”]

What crushed them wasn’t magic.

It was sheer will.
The very thought of being annoyed by their behavior manifested into an overwhelming pressure that bore down on them. If he wanted to kill, they would die. If he wanted to destroy, destruction would come.

Thus, he was someone you could never defy.

No matter that they were Grand Mages.

Like prey before a predator, the mages averted their eyes, unable to meet his gaze out of sheer terror.

“Pathetic, truly.”

Ha!

The boy laughed again, as cheerfully as if he hadn’t just been furious.

Freshly and brightly.

Then, turning his sparkling eyes toward the knights, he exclaimed, “You two are truly fascinating!”

He spoke to the two knights who, despite having been exposed to his oppressive will, stood unscathed.

The two knights, however, simply exchanged glances.

“What the hell is he talking about?”
“No idea. Must’ve lived too long and fried his brain.”
“Ah, makes sense.”

Their openly irreverent gaze, as if saying, What a lunatic, was evident.

“Puhahahaha!”

The boy laughed thunderously, clutching his stomach as though it might burst from his amusement.

Even as he floated through the air as if swimming, his laughter carried no malice toward their insults.

…He seemed unhinged, as if something vital within him had come loose—no, just as the knights had said, his mind seemed broken.

But if you asked Turr de Seigan, he’d tell you this:

He wasn’t mad—he just had an overwhelming curiosity.
That curiosity was the reason he had risen to such unparalleled heights, driven by an insatiable desire to experience something new.

“Hey, you know something?”

At some point, his laughter stopped, and he began speaking unilaterally.

“Your strength? It’s no different from those old folks over there. No, if we’re talking about raw energy, those old geezers probably have more.”

By "old geezers," he meant the Grand Mages. Turr de Seigan evaluated the knights and the mages in a single, succinct judgment.

“Sometimes I encounter warriors as strong as you. People often call them [Heroes] or [Demons]. Occasionally, there are some who stand out—ones who are just as strong as you or even stronger.”

Yes, they existed.

People whose "energy" matched that of the Grand Mages.

And by energy, he didn’t mean magical power.
It was something invisible to ordinary people—a force often called [Aura].
Or, as some referred to it, life force.

Knights called it combat energy or whatnot, but to him, the term aura was more fitting.

In that sense, the auras of the two knights fell slightly short compared to the Grand Mages.

Of course, how could young warriors like them compare to those who had lived for a century or more?

Some comparisons were simply unfair.

However, despite having less energy, these knights possessed a certain special quality that even the Grand Mages lacked.

A quality that occasionally appeared in the rare [Heroes] or [Demons] whose names went down in history.

And that quality was—

“Still, you know, ‘heroes who’ve tempered their very souls’ like you are incredibly rare.”

The strength of the soul.

“Those are the ones who’ve thrown their lives on the line again and again in battle, training, or trials of monumental scale, yet still survived. People like that can create overwhelming gaps between themselves and others, even when their power levels are the same, and claim victory—just like how you crushed the old geezers and the Magic Tower.”

To clarify, the Magic Tower was not weak.

Far from it. There were plenty within the Tower who had energy levels comparable to those of the knights.

And not just the twelve Bronze Giants or the five Grand Mages. There were six more forces hidden within the Tower.

Yet…

“Even if those six came out, they still wouldn’t be able to beat you. Your strength isn’t determined by energy alone. You know how to overcome, and you know how to win. So it’s only natural that my people can’t defeat you.”

Turr de Seigan admitted it outright.
The Magic Tower could not win against them.

And yet, he didn’t seem upset.

The deaths of the mages didn’t bother him. The destruction of the Magic Tower didn’t unsettle him.

To him, all of it seemed trivial—a natural process, almost.

However, there was one thing Turr de Seigan could never tolerate.

It was a disease he had carried for as long as he could remember—a disease that had driven him to his great heights.

Fueled by his insatiable curiosity, he directed his question toward the two knights, whose strong souls fascinated him.

“Hey, listen… I want to dissect your bodies and souls. Will you let me?”

This disease of his, this inability to suppress his desires, was what made Turr de Seigan the unrelenting force he was.

“Ah, of course, it doesn’t matter if you don’t give me permission. I’ll do it anyway. So, I’ll apologize in advance.”

“……”

“Hahaha!”

The boy laughed again, as if he were genuinely overjoyed to have discovered such intriguing rare materials.

“—Are you done talking?”

“…Hm?”

“I said, are you done, you psychopathic bastard?”

“……”

“You talk to yourself way too damn much.”

Crack, crack!

Ihan stretched his body.

Thanks to the bastard’s endless chatter, his body had recovered somewhat—and the same went for the spearman, Raq.

Thud!

Ihan pulled out two potions and injected them directly into his veins like a syringe.

Potion doping.
A reckless method he’d already used the previous day in his fight against the Demon King, now repeated here.

Sure, there’d be side effects, but so what?

“Don’t you have anything?”

“…Going old-school, huh.”

“Oh.”

In a fight to the death, who cared about rules?

Gulp!

Raq pulled out a handful of pill-like objects and swallowed them all at once—five in total.

“…You’re pushing it.”
“You think you’re the only one?”

The pills looked dangerous enough that even taking one seemed risky, yet he’d downed five at once. Clearly, this guy hated losing just as much.

But Ihan liked that.

‘Yeah, this isn’t a sport.’

Doping was illegal in sports because it violated sportsmanship.

But what they were doing wasn’t a sport bound by rules or unspoken codes.
This was a battle to the death, where only the living would walk away.

There was no such thing as cheating or foul play here.

And so—

“Let’s see who gets dissected, you damn spell-slinging bastard.”

The two knights joined forces at this moment.

As history had shown time and time again, the most effective way to take down a powerful foe was through a concentrated, united assault.

Failure meant death. Success meant survival.

And in the minds of these knights, failure was never an option.

Striking, parrying, blocking.

The way Ihan flawlessly carried out these three actions was nothing short of desperate.

“Aaaaaah!!”

His fierce battle cry, almost like a mantra, seemed to push him past his limits.

This was a struggle—a fight for his life.
Every movement, every action radiated a raw and brutal determination. Slowly but surely, Ihan advanced.

His instincts screamed that survival meant one thing: he had to kill Turr. And so, his body responded to that resolve, each step forward a testament to his indomitable will.

Tiny, yet monumental steps.

The distance between Turr and Ihan was about 200 paces. Each step cost Ihan dearly, blood spilling and bones fracturing with every movement. Yet, he moved forward.

A knight who knew no retreat.

He resembled a turtle, unwavering and persistent. The nickname he’d been given when he first became a knight—chosen offhandedly and carelessly—seemed more fitting now than ever.

“Puhahahaha! What the hell is that!”

Someone might have been moved to admiration by Ihan’s desperate struggle, but Turr only laughed.

It was a mocking laugh, as if to say, Do you really think you can reach me with that?

Then Turr suddenly said, “I want to see you despair.”

Like a cruel child toying with an ant, he made a new gesture with his hand.

Whoosh!

With a motion like scooping sand, Turr’s hand moved—and—

Krrrrrr!

…The earth flipped.

The impossible unfolded as the ground beneath Ihan overturned entirely. With just a light flick of Turr’s hand, the very landscape was upended.

Thud!

Ihan’s body plunged deep into the ground, rolling helplessly into the chaos below.

“...Damn monster.”

Ihan looked at the collapsing soil and snow burying him with a grim expression.

Shhhhhh!

Earth Flip.

A catastrophic display of power that defied belief.
It was inconceivable that a single mage could cause such destruction.

The most horrifying part wasn’t even the flipped earth itself—it was the fact that Ihan had been buried alive under the landslide of debris.

As if that wasn’t enough, Turr began slamming his palms and fists into the ground repeatedly, ensuring no chance of survival.

Boom! BOOM!

Still not broken? Still holding on? His actions resembled a child smashing their toys out of curiosity, but the terror it inspired was anything but childlike.

He’d been ecstatic moments earlier about finding a rare specimen, but now, he seemed to take twisted pleasure in utterly destroying it.

This was why he was called the Magic Tower’s greatest lunatic.

And so—

Fwoosh!

Drip…

“Oh, right. There’s still you, isn’t there?”

Too engrossed in playing with one "toy," Turr had momentarily forgotten the other. He casually touched his cheek, where a line of blood trickled down, though he showed no reaction to the injury.

Even when bleeding, he was unfazed.

Shhh.

“Look, it’s already healed.”
“……”
“Tsk, no reaction? Boring.”
“……”
“Hm. Aren’t you worried about your friend? He might be dead, you know. Most people would die if they were buried like that.”
“…He’s not my friend.”
“Really? I thought you were close.”

Whoosh!

“Why don’t we chat a little—”

Turr’s suggestion was cut off as Raq’s spear lunged forward relentlessly.

If the tank’s role was to endure and shield, the damage dealer’s role was to pierce the monster’s throat.